


Apathy In Action

by aurilly



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-05-19
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder's an angry scientist for The Company. Adam is its listless CEO. They're both been in a funk about the sad state of their respective existences. Luckily...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thirty years. It had been thirty years since Adam Monroe had founded the organization with those twelve nincompoop idealists and their odd assortment of abilities. Twenty years since he'd one-by-one deprived them of influence, just as he'd always planned. But it had only been ten years, he had recently begun to see, since he'd been trapped in an endless cycle of paperwork and empty schemes. Bit by bit, he'd dissociated himself from the day-to-day running of the place, leaving most of the work to talented underlings who relished that sort of thing.

The problem was that he hadn't yet found something else to do.

It hadn't been like this in the old days. Adam remembered when men of power actually _did_ things. They made war. They led nations. They ordered virgins to be sent to their rooms every night. Life was exciting for men of power.

Adam had never been one of those men. There were many advantages to his ability, but one of the drawbacks was the practical impossibility of ever stealing the spotlight. He couldn't retain power or even the same _identity _for more than a few years before people started to notice that something was very wrong… or very right, depending on one's perspective. And so, Adam had always been the unknown but pivotal general, the unrecognized but brilliant statesman, the 'devoted' follower who quietly deflowered the virgin before sending her up to the king. This company had been his first attempt to lead on his own, instead of subtly guiding better-known faces to his own whims.

It hadn't worked out as planned. Since taking full control, Adam had learned that being the leader involved a lot of signatures, a lot of meetings, a lot of incredibly boring bullshit. It was a lonely life, and even worse, Adam wondered if he even _had_ any power. What was he accomplishing? None of his projects had amounted to much. There had been the virus fiasco, and a failed attempt to control the weather. Not even the new scheme he'd recently cooked up was going anywhere.

One of the worst parts of Adam's year was having to inspect each and every one of Primatech's outposts. It was actually his only real responsibility, and there weren't that many outposts, but the task was still tedious. The only way he got through it was by making it into a kind of game for himself, much to the well-hidden but still apparent irritation of his trusted long-time secretary, Mahews. Sometimes he posed as an unnamed executive and enjoyed watching agents scramble in fear. At other times, he'd pretend to be one of the brilliant accountants he employed to siphon money from the legitimate paper business into the secret organization without governments ever finding out.

Adam usually saved the locations closest to home for last, and wrapped it all up with an appearance at the annual New York holiday party. This year, his weekly briefing informed him of a newish addition to the list. _Wonderful._ It was a laboratory on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. As his towncar pulled up to the entrance, he wondered what in the world Bob had been thinking to start a laboratory here. It was so random, and caused Adam to question if keeping Bob on even in his current low-level administrative role had been a good idea. Adam vaguely remembered seeing the authorization float across his desk months before. Bob had rented an individual loft for a scientist he was trying to recruit, but when curious neighbors had started nosing around, he had simply ordered Primatech's finance department to buy the entire building, and turned it into a larger operation. Checking his notes again, Adam read that the inception of the idea had been to utilize the studio of a now-deceased prophetic painter who had painted New York City exploding.

Adam cringed at this reminder of yet another one of his failed attempts to do something big, something grand. "Not a very _good_ prophetic painter," he grumbled to himself.

Adam arranged his features into the bland expression he associated with accountants, and tugged at his suit jacket, which was selected to be as plain as possible for the role he was playing. With a sigh, he let himself into the building and prepared to meet the freaks in the white coats.

********************************************************  
Mohinder peered into his microscope. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd been peering into a microscope for months, focusing on the minuscule as a way of shutting out the larger picture of what his life had become.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Mohinder looked up, a scowl already on his face. Helmut, his squirrelly assistant, quaked to see it. Mohinder's short temper was well-known around the building. Only recently had he gotten an inkling that he was disliked, but Mohinder didn't care. He hated everything about this place, and extended those negative feelings to everyone he was doing it with.

"What is it?" Mohinder snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. However, just then, he noticed the man hovering behind Helmut. A young man in a shabby-looking suit, much like the ones Mohinder would have bought himself, had he ever needed to buy a suit.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you," the man said. A Brit, Mohinder realized, and his expression slowly transformed into a small smile. The man held his hand out for Mohinder to shake, a penetrating gaze accompanying it. "I'm an accountant from the Hartsdale office. I've come to ask you a few questions about this facility, to understand the budgets before we prepare next year's tax forms. I promise not to disturb you for longer than is necessary."

"I didn't know I had any appointments today," Mohinder mused absent-mindedly, but he wasn't very surprised. Keeping track of his calendar had never been one of his strong suits. "No one's ever come to check up on us before. Is something wrong?" Mohinder asked suspiciously.

"Not at all. This is merely a routine annual interview, and since this facility has only been in operation for eight months, this would be your first. If you could show me around and familiarize me with the work that goes on here. I promise not to disturb you for longer than is necessary, and perhaps you'll even welcome the distraction. I… I know I do," he finished under his breath.

Mohinder had to laugh at the barely caught addendum. "Yes, I doubt that the life of a chartered accountant is full of field trips. What do you need from me?"

There was a pregnant pause as the stranger sucked at his lower lip, which was already naturally indented on the right side. "As much as you'd like to give," he said quietly, staring at Mohinder intently with those almost eerily globular eyes.

Without knowing why, Mohinder gulped despite himself, and then sighed. Something about this man gave him an odd feeling in his gut that he couldn't place. Plus, the last thing he needed was to baby-sit an accountant---in fact, 'baby-sitting' wasn't too far off of a term, given the man's unkempt hair and boyish features… he looked about Mohinder's age---possibly even younger---except for the discomfiting way in which he was currently staring at him, which was uncomfortably adult. Except for a handful of the agents---people like Elle, hired specifically because they were young and sexy---Mohinder had never encountered anyone younger than himself in the employ of the company. He would never admit it, but he'd _always_ been the precociously young genius, no matter where he was. He _liked _being that person, and a prickle of competitive spirit ran down his spine.

Mohinder put down his papers and gave them to his assistant. "Helmut, will you take over this experiment for the next few minutes while I show this gentleman around?"

"Ja, Herr Suresh," Helmut squeaked in his silly accent. The visitor laughingly caught Mohinder's eye, and they shared an eye-brow raise and silent smile.

"Come," Mohinder beckoned, and they began to walk down the hallway. "I'm Mohinder, by the way," he said by way of introduction.

"Adam," was the reply. And then Adam chuckled into his sleeve.

"What?" Mohinder asked.

Adam coughed, but there was still that mysterious twinkle in his eye as he sized Mohinder up and down. "Nothing. It's simply that I think I just figured out why Bo… why Mr. Bishop set up this facility just for you."

"Oh yes. We're doing excellent research here, advancing the capabilities of the power inhibitors that the company has been using for---"

Adam rolled his eyes and cut him off. "I'm sure you are."

Mohinder didn't understand, but tried to remain polite. "What would you like to see first?"

Adam shrugged. "Why don't we start with your office?"

Mohinder considered that the least interesting place in the building, but he dismissed his concern as due to not understanding the profession he was dealing with. "As you wish," he conceded.

"How many people work here?" Adam asked, but in a very bored tone, as if he either knew the answer or didn't care.

"Twenty," Mohinder replied as he shut the door and ushered Adam into the extra chair in his office. "Most of them report to me."

"You seem rather young for such responsibility," Adam observed.

"As do you for yours," Mohinder retorted pettily.

They sized one another up for a second, and all of a sudden, although he'd been looking intermittently at this man for the past five minutes, it occurred to Mohinder that Adam was attractive. _Incredibly_ attractive. There was something about the way in which his otherwise odd features fit together that was very compelling. He wondered how he hadn't quite noticed it before. Possibly the title of 'accountant' had distracted him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Adam asked knowingly, when neither of them had said anything for a minute.

Mohinder was mortified as he realized that his tongue, completely unbidden, was in the process of trailing across his lower lip. He retracted it and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to refocus. He remembered his very tall friend from university, who had once told him how he could almost time the moment in which a woman who, meeting him for the first time, would look up to note his height, think about it for a second, and then sneak a wondering glance down at his groin. Mohinder wondered if Adam had just timed him in the same way. He wondered quickly if Adam was as used to people experiencing this delayed kind of reaction to his looks as the friend had been to people experiencing delayed wonderment about his endowment.

Bringing himself back into the professional moment and feeling himself blushing hotly, Mohinder stuttered, "I… I assume you're looking for our budgets. To see how much money you need to mask from the taxman." He reached nervously for one of his files, praying that Adam hadn't ascertained the true meaning behind his moment of inappropriate distraction.

"Yes. Of course. The budgets," Adam said lamely, rapping his knuckles on Mohinder's desk and not looking in the least bit interested in his job. Mohinder had trouble understanding such a sentiment. He handed Adam a stack of papers. "I suppose we should go through these together, and I'll explain any questions you have about our expenses and what we do here? I've never done this before."

But Adam wasn't even looking at them. "Neither have I," he admitted.

"Really?" Mohinder was torn between feeling annoyed at having been interrupted from his experiments for this neophyte, and still feeling a little dazed without quite knowing why.

"No," was the simple reply. Putting the papers on the desk, he leaned forward and said, "How about we get acquainted a bit before going into this? I'd like… it's important to understand the, er, _qualitative_ data as well as the cash flows and income statements."

Mohinder let out a long exhalation, drawn despite himself into that intoxicating gaze. "I agree," he replied, almost hypnotically. "That would be vastly more interesting, for both of us."

********************************************************

They were finally almost over, Adam's responsibilities for the year. He made a mental note to thank Mahews for saving that particular facility for last. The visit to the new laboratory had been fascinating… or rather, its _director_ had been fascinating.

Leaving the laboratory in a heady daze of lust, Adam realized that he hadn't felt those kinds of butterflies in longer than he could remember. Nothing much had happened beyond a cursory personal conversation followed by the apparently driven Dr. Suresh's discussion of inhibitor drugs and phase one prototypes and next-generation equipment that would cost… blah blah blah… What mattered to Adam was that Mohinder had been to Oxford, had experienced a number of unbelievable things, had a remarkably tragic family history. Adam had left the meeting thoroughly on board with absolutely _everything_ going on in the Reade Street facility, whatever it was that was going on. He was vaguely aware of promising Mohinder whatever funds he needed for whatever experiments he wanted to conduct. It didn't matter; he'd write a memo to the finance department, and if the money absolutely couldn't be spared, Mohinder would never attribute the blame to him. The purpose of his disguises for these meetings was more than simply diversion; it was in Adam's best interest that as few people as possible knew what their ageless CEO looked like.

The last errand he had was to appear at the company party. He usually would have preferred to change into one of his usual Armani suits for the occasion, but not only was there not time, but in the back of his head, he wondered if he would run into Mohinder again. If so, it would be better to keep up the disguise. The party was being held in a relatively generic restaurant in Tribeca. When Adam arrived, it was already in full swing.

"I'm glad you made it, sir," Mahews greeted him as soon as he walked in, and handed him a gimlet.

Adam took a sniff at the drink, drawing joy from the comforting scent of Tanqueray and replied sarcastically, "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

One of the things that ticked the edge of his consciousness from time to time was the question of who was master here---Adam or Mahews.

But the thought didn't have time to blossom, for his ever-sharp eyes soon locked on a dark, curly head bobbing up and down across the room.

"Excuse me," he said, and made a beeline for Mohinder, swooping a second drink from the bar on the way. He had no idea what it was, but Adam had a feeling it wouldn't matter to Mohinder, who was looking around the room anxiously. Adam felt a surge of self-satisfaction flow through him; when they'd parted, Adam had urged the other man to attend the party that night. Mohinder had been cagey and non-committal, asserting that there were 'uncertainties' and 'other factors.' But Adam had leveled his most devastating gaze upon the man, and wrenched out choked half-promises that he had had no qualms would be fulfilled.

"You're like a bird," Adam whispered seductively into Mohinder's ear as he crept up behind him. Mohinder jumped, but smiled shyly when he realized who it was.

"Oh! Hello again! I was just looking for someone," he explained, and continued looking around.

This wasn't exactly the greeting Adam had expected.

"Well, you can stop looking, for here I am," he laughed, and handed Mohinder the extra drink.

"I wasn't looking for _you_," Mohinder said absently as he accepted it, still looking around worriedly.

Adam raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink. "Tact. Yet another of the qualities I admire about you. At any rate, I'm glad you made it."

Still not seeming to understand what was going on, Mohinder replied, "I knew I would get hell from someone I know if I didn't make an appearance."

"So, your decision had nothing to do with seeing me again? Honestly, doctor, I'm hurt," Adam pouted petulantly, but with an underlying smirk so that Mohinder wouldn't take him too seriously.

It was enough to finally pull Mohinder back into the moment. His body relaxed and he stopped twisting his head around "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. And yes, the opportunity of running into you again did help weigh the odds in the party's favor." Mohinder followed up his apology with the kind of smile that had probably earned him forgiveness for anything he'd ever done in his life.

"That's a better answer," Adam congratulated, gulping slightly and breathing heavily. "So, do you have many friends in the other divisions?" he asked, although the fact that Mohinder had been standing so awkwardly and alone until Adam had shown up was answer in itself.

Mohinder shook his head. "No. I know a couple of the agents, but my work is demanding enough that… actually, I avoid fraternizing with anyone here."

"Really?"

Mohinder became stern as he seemed to size Adam up, yet again---Adam felt that he hadn't been viewed through this many lenses by one person in years. He didn't mind, though, for it gave him a chance to size _Mohinder_ up one more time---always an enjoyable experience.

Leaning deliciously close, Mohinder whispered, "To be quite honest, I don't particularly like most of the people who work here."

"Why is that? And I hope _I _don't count as one of..." Adam asked, intrigued.

But before he could get an answer, Mohinder's hand flew to his trousers and he pulled his cellphone out. Looking at the number he said, "I'm so sorry. I know it's rude but…"

"It's fine," Adam shrugged. It _wasn't_, but what was he to do? He watched curiously as Mohinder became more and more agitated over the course of his mysterious conversation.

"You're _where_? … Why don't you use the key I made for you? … _Again?_ … Stay still. I'll be there as soon as I can. Call again if anything else happens."

"What's going on?" Adam drawled as Mohinder snapped his phone shut, shaking with fury. His fingers curled into a two-handed fist around the cell phone, squeezing it in his rage.

"This fucking company," he spat with surprising venom. Conspiratorially, he leaned in to whisper into Adam's ear as he stood up. "I have had enough with this place. The things that really go on. The things they put people through. It's monstrous. It's _evil_. You probably have no idea..."

Adam hid his laughter by letting it fall into his glass. "Where are you going? I hate to lose you so soon."

Although he was in the middle of rushing off, Adam was gratified to see Mohinder actually stop in his tracks, not exactly torn, but at least regretful. "I'm sorry. I really am, but a… a friend of mine needs my help. I have to go. And no, you are not one of the people I..." He trailed off wistfully. "I _do _hope we meet again."

Adam shook Mohinder's hand. "So do I."

Frustrated, he watched Mohinder all but run for the exit. Adam waved a waitress to him and was soon provided with two more gimlets, which he drank quickly before signaling to order more.

Finally, he called Mahews over to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you happen to notice that employee I was sitting with for some time? His name is Mohinder Suresh. He works in the new downtown lab. Could you get someone to pull together some information on him for me? The usual detail."

"Of course, sir. I'll call an agent right away." Mahews shimmered off, efficient as always.

Already working on his next cocktail, Adam finally admitted to himself what a dull existence he had come to lead. In fact, his life was an exercise in apathy, and he now realized what was wrong: Primatech Paper was sucking out his soul. Or whatever was left of it. Never in his wildest dreams had Adam envisioned that his life would be reduced to pouting about an employee leaving a bad party without him, or ordering other people to find out information about someone he was interested in instead of relishing the chase and mystery himself. And yet, here was, doing exactly those things.

He knew that people sometimes went through slow periods. However, Adam realized, his immortality had made him somewhat complacent about the duration of such a period. Where mortals sometimes endured them for just a few months, Adam's had stretched on for years, not realizing because a year to him was like a week to most people. He had all the time in the world. All the same, he was disappointed in himself for having allowed this to go on for so long. Leaning back against the wall and watching the insignificant drones enjoying themselves around him while he felt so empty only made him angrier.

And so, he continued to drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Mohinder bounded up the stairs of his building two at a time until he arrived at the sixth floor. He saw Elle, bruised and bloody, curled in an improbable position on his doormat with her head between her knees, and moaning softly through her chattering teeth.

"Elle!" Mohinder cried as he crouched beside her, wracked with worry.

"Hey, you," she whispered painfully, but with an effort at bravado.

Mohinder finally put his finger on what was wrong with the way she was sitting. It was her arm; it was sticking backwards at a terrible angle. Touching it gently, he asked, "What happened to you?"

"What _hasn't_ happened to me?" she groused. "Can you put my arm back into place? It's dislocated. Hurts like a _fucking_ bitch."

Mohinder gripped her elbow and then nervously released it. "I've never done this before. I don't want to hurt..."

"You can't make it hurt worse than it already does, so stop being a girl and just do it. Wait. Actually, take me inside first? I'm probably going to yell, and the neighbors…"

Mohinder nodded. He unlocked the door and then bent down to gather her delicately in his arms.

As he crossed the threshold and kicked the door shut behind them, Elle softly joked, "Always pictured this as being more romantic."

Mohinder deposited her on his bed and stood helplessly over her. "So I simply pull it straight again?"

"Yeah. Don't pussy-foot around it. Just hold and pull." Elle's voice was tough, but Mohinder could hear the exhaustion, the desperate hysteria, bubbling under the surface.

Mohinder put a hand over her mouth, and held and released her arm a couple of times before finally counting to three and yanking it back into place. She screamed into his palm, teeth gnashing against him for a few seconds. Mohinder climbed up on the bed to sit next to her. He ran his thumb over a large bruise on her jaw.

"Where else are you hurt?"

Elle was busy rubbing her shoulder, but pointed at the hem of her blouse. Mohinder lifted it and gasped to see the hideous, bleeding gash across the right side of her abdomen. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom to get some bandages, thinking to himself that this had long crossed the line of too much. He felt like he was _always_ going into the bathroom for the first-aid kit these days, was always patching up Elle. No matter how many times he begged her to speak to her superiors, urged her to ask to be reassigned before she got killed, nothing changed. Upon his return he growled, "Who did this to you this time?" Mohinder swore to himself that whoever it was would pay.

Elle shrugged, and then swore under her breath at the residual discomfort it caused to her arm. Only then did Mohinder notice what else was wrong with her: Elle's hair, which had been waist-length when he'd last seen her a few days before, was now a jagged and uneven bob that brushed her chin. "What happened to your hair?" he asked incredulously.

"I dunno. Whoever these people are, there's got to be a girl with them. Only a girl would do something so _bitchy_. It happened really fast. I walked Jackson to his car because I was helping him with his luggage. He drove off and I was leaving the parking lot when they came out of nowhere. Next thing I knew, my hair was on the floor. I heard a laugh. A _girl's_ laugh. But I didn't see her. Just lots of whooshing. Must be a speedster." Elle leaned back against the headboard, wincing when Mohinder cleaned her wound with an alcohol pad.

"Who cut you? This unseen woman?" Mohinder seethed. He had her shirt pulled up above her bra and was now applying some antibiotics to the cut on her stomach, but his hands shook with rage.

Elle shook her head. "No, I _saw_ the bastard who cut me. It happened while we were fighting. There were two goons. One of them grabbed me, yanked my arms behind my back, but I think he was wearing rubber gloves or something, because I gave him the full blast and nothing happened. Last thing I remember was the other guy's fist coming to my face. They…" Her voice broke. "When I came to, everything was gone. My luggage, my coat, my wallet."

Mohinder couldn't believe it. He knew that Elle had been on a top secret project for the past couple of months. She and her non-powered partner, Jackson, had been gallivanting around the world on an extraction mission that kept getting foiled by various heavies and bad luck. However, this was the first time they'd been waylaid so close to home. What was even more frightening was the fact that Elle didn't even know what she was working for, what the project was about.

"And you still have no idea who they are?"

Elle shook her head. "Nope. But this is the closest they've come to being sloppy." Carefully, and using her blouse, she pulled a bit of mauve-colored paper out of her pocket. "Not much, but maybe there's a fingerprint on it or something. Can you put it in the inter-office mail tomorrow morning and send it to Hartsdale for me for analysis?"

"Of course. But, how did you get here?"

"Jumped the turnstile and took the subway. Gotta love New York City," she snorted. "Bleeding girl with a dislocated arm gets on the A train, and no one even bats an eye. We're not allowed to go to regular hospitals, and I knew the company doctors would all be at the party, so I came here and hoped that since I hadn't called you to go to the party with me, that you were being your usual dorky self and sitting at home."

"You know, Elle, you're here so often, you might as well move in," Mohinder opined.

There was a beat, and then Elle's voice quietly asking, "Is that an invitation?"

Mohinder looked up at her questioning face and saw the sincerity behind her eyes. That hadn't been what he'd meant by the comment, but now that it was out there… "Do you want it to be?"

She looked away, ashamed to have let her guard down to completely. The edge returned to her voice as she explained, "Well, it's a long way from Hartsdale to JFK; living in Brooklyn would ease my commute. And… well, since Daddy got reassigned to the outsourcing in China, having that big house all to myself has been less exciting than I thought it would be. And," she continued slyly, looking back at him, "it'd make it easier for me to look after you."

Mohinder considered this. Although the current situation suggested otherwise, Mohinder had to acknowledge that Elle did almost as much caretaking of Mohinder as he did of her---albeit in different ways. Through distracting calls that peppered his work days, she reminded him to eat lunch, to leave the office when it got too late, to pay his rent, all while prattling on about nothing until he sometimes had to hang up the phone in smiling irritation.

Ever since Matt had taken Molly with him to restart his life in LA, Mohinder's own had been singularly empty. The Petrelli's ignored his existence, either through selfish forgetfulness or due to an order from their ogre-like mother. Either way, all of his pre-Primatech associations had faded away and he was left with nothing but work and no one to care about him… except for Elle, who was now devouring him with those eyes that wouldn't take no for an answer.

So, trying to rationalize to himself that this was actually more for her good than for his, Mohinder teasingly replied, "Do I need to make you a new copy of the keys, or can you appropriate the spare pair without losing them?"

"Fuck you." But she smiled and exhaled the deep breath she'd been holding as she awaited his answer. Elle tried to move to hug him, but then groaned, between her still tender arm and the other cuts and bruises. "Come here," she ordered.

Mohinder slid himself closer to her on the bed, slipping an arm tightly around her and burying his nose in her hair. She nuzzled into him, tilting her head up so that she could smile at him.

"I'll have to call in a debrief tomorrow, but other than that, I don't have anything to do for another couple of days. I can call the movers tomorrow. I don't have much stuff, I swear," she promised.

"It doesn't matter. There's more than enough room. The only problem I foresee is the mess. I think we should probably hire a maid. I don't think our combined predilection for disorder will make for a very habitable space."

He expected a laugh or sarcastic agreement, but instead heard a sob. Gazing down at her, Mohinder saw that she had started softly crying. He pulled her in even tighter. Even though he knew the answer would be a host of things---her strange upbringing, her current physical pain, her frustration with failure, her unfortunate coiffure---he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Everything," she sobbed, snuggling even closer into him and breaking his heart with her wide, limpid eyes. "Thanks for picking up the phone tonight."

"Of course," Mohinder assured her. He kissed the top of her head and said with a rakish wink, "I think I know what might cheer you up."

*********************************************************

After another couple of hours of scowling at the world in increasingly drunken oblivion, Adam finally called for his car to take him home. He stumbled into his townhouse and threw his coat on the floor. He was too drunk and in too foul of a mood to be tidy. He stopped by the kitchen just long enough to grab a bottle of seltzer from the fridge before galumphing into his bedroom and stripping down to nothing. Standing in the middle of the room atop his discarded pile of clothes, Adam downed the entire bottle of water, and then threw it angrily across the room.

This particular funk had been instigated by his disappointment regarding that random scientist. Adam wasn't used to people giving him mixed signals; the man had given him a couple of looks that day that left no question of at least some level of attraction, but he'd run off so rudely, apparently unconcerned about the fact that they hadn't exchanged any contact information.

As he pulled back the sheets on his tightly made bed, Adam wasn't even sure what he was so upset about. The scientist wasn't _really _what was wrong. He'd been through this before; the 1710s, back when he'd finally come to terms with the idea that he would neither age nor die, had been a similarly traumatic period for him, and he'd gotten over it by getting involved in a conspiracy against the French crown with Philippe d'Orléans. It was an intriguing project, one that required a lot more personal activity than he'd been engaging in as of late. He resolved to start taking action to fix the rut he was in the very next day.

In the meanwhile, alcohol, tiredness, and annoyance encouraged sleep to overtake him. He was almost completely unconscious when the phone rang.

"Hello?" he snapped once he'd fumbled in the dark to find the handset on the night table.

"Hello, sir. This is Brian Greene. Mr. Mayhews assigned me to provide you with information on Mohinder Suresh."

Adam wasn't quite sure what to complain about first: the fact that this Brian person had woken him up, or the indecent sex noises in the background. He didn't waffle for long, though: sex _always_ won.

"Where are you calling me from?" he barked. "A brothel?"

"No, I'm in a van outside the subject's apartment, listening in through a bug I planted in his bedroom window."

Adam barely heard the explanation; he was too busy being distracted by the moans of pleasure he could hear.

"Ah… ah… mind… Oh, what a mess," an accented male's voice exclaimed. _Mohinder_.

"I don't mind licking it off you," a tinkly female voice gushed in ecstasy. There was a brief pause during which Adam pictured some faceless woman writhing up and down the perfect body he'd just seen a few hours earlier. Jealousy curled angrily in his stomach. Then the woman sighed, "Oh god, Mohinder, that was so good. _Too_ good."

Mohinder sounded self-satisfied as he replied, "I aim to please."

Adam was stunned. The man was _straight_? The 'friend' he'd run off to see was his girlfriend? Adam hadn't misread a person or a situation this badly in longer than he could remember. How had this socially-retarded, bumbling scientist managed to pull the wool over his eyes so completely?

However, despite his acute disappointment, Adam was left feeling even more intrigued.

In the meanwhile, he took his frustration out on the agent. "I asked for information, not audio pornography," he raged. "Turn that off."

"It---" Brian began, but Adam irritatedly shut him up.

"I said, _turn it off_."

The noises were silenced as Brian disabled the equipment. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Monroe. I thought this mission was urgent. I guess it wasn't?"

"Just make sure to leave a report on his previous activities on my desk tomorrow morning. That's all I wanted. I have no interest in what goes on in his bedroom," Adam lied.

"Sorry, sir. Good night, sir." Brian was about to hang up, but then Adam realized that a question would keep him up until morning unless he asked it now.

"Wait a minute. Who is the girl?"

"Elle Bishop. Daughter of Bob Bishop. She's one of the agents who have been working on Project X. Not doing a particularly good job, as I'm sure you already know. She and the subject appear to be extraordinarily close. In fact, he just asked her to move in with him. She said yes."

Adam pursed his lips and huffed quietly through his nose. "That will be all, Brian. Good night."

This time, it was the phone, yanked from its outlet, which was thrown angrily across the room.

*********************************************************

"How'd you know that Half Baked is my favorite Ben &amp; Jerry's flavor?" a finally sated Elle moaned happily after she'd finished licking all the ice cream off her spoon. Next to her, and slightly ruing his exception to the no-eating-in-bed rule, Mohinder watched her pink tongue greedily slurp off every last bit. It was positively indecent, as were the noises she'd been making for the past few minutes, but he was glad to have made her feel more at ease. She seemed almost to have forgotten about her injuries. Mohinder polished off the last of his own mug-full of ice cream, and couldn't help letting out yet another one of his own moans of pleasure.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thanks, doc," she said, and gave him an impetuous kiss on the cheek.

"Good," he grinned. He stood up and began to put the lids back on the ice cream cartons. Now that he was certain that Elle would be fine, other topics from the day returned to his mind. There was something that might be worth asking her about. "Oh, by the way, I met someone today, someone you might know."

"Yeah?" Elle called after him as he left to put the ice cream back in the freezer. Mohinder stopped by the bathroom to put toothpaste on his brush before coming back into the bedroom, where he found her sitting up brightly.

"Yes, one of the accountants," he replied, with his mouth full of foam.

"Why would you think I know any of the _accountants_?" she asked disparagingly.

"I remember that their floor is above the agent offices. Perhaps you ride the elevator together. His name is Adam."

"I don't know any of their names," she scoffed. "What's he look like?"

"Blonde, blue eyes, high forehead---"

"Cut to the chase, Mohinder. Is he cute or is he not cute?"

Mohinder hesitated, and then turned to head back to the bathroom so that she wouldn't be able to read his face as he answered. "I think you would find him attractive," he mumbled into his toothbrush.

However, he couldn't escape her penetrating gaze that easily. Almost as soon as he made it back into the bathroom, he heard her hobbling up behind him. Elle thrust her head around his body like a curious owl to check his expression. "_I_ would find him attractive, or _you_ would?"

"Anyone would," Mohinder said evasively and bent his head down to spit.

"Uh huh," she deadpanned knowingly as she reached for the toothbrush that had been reserved for her for the past couple of months. "Anyway, I don't think I've ever seen him. I notice _all_ the cute boys."

"Perhaps he's new. Actually, I think he _was_," Mohinder offered as he dried his face, remembering the man's strangely unprofessional demeanor.

Elle leaned again the wall, watching him. "Yeah, maybe. But wait a sec. What were you doing in Hartsdale?"

Mohinder shook his head. "I didn't meet him in Hartsdale."

"Ohhhh, at the party, huh?" she asked eagerly. "I'm hurt, Mohinder. You went without me. I thought I was your wingman."

Mohinder rolled his eyes. "You're a terrible wingman, Elle. Everyone always assumes we're together; maybe that's why no one ever approaches us. At any rate, I didn't meet him at the party. Not technically. He stopped by earlier today to ask about my research with inhibitors and how much it was costing. And then I ran into him again at the party. It was fun. He's the first person in that hellhole that I've liked other than you."

"You really shouldn't be so down on the company, Mohinder. It isn't _all_ bad."

This was enough to make Mohinder seethe. "Not all bad? How can you stand there after everything that's just happened and say that?"

"We've helped people, Mohinder. _You've_ helped people. We take dangerous specials off the streets. Your work with the inhibitors is improving lives. Yeah, it isn't all roses but---"

Mohinder couldn't believe his ears. "It doesn't outweigh the evil that they do. What sort of organization sends a young woman out to her death every week with no one to help her but that powerless, incompetent fool, Jackson?"

Elle simply shrugged and then rinsed her mouth out before answering, "I dunno, but the company's all I've got."

He grabbed her hands passionately and led her back into the bedroom. "Except that it isn't! It doesn't have to be. You don't know how much is out there in the world. Why don't you leave---"

"For the same reason _you_ don't leave. Because they'd never let us. Not alive, anyway. So you might as well deal with it. Being angry about it won't do you any good." Elle shot Mohinder a withering glance as he gingerly helped her change into an over-sized tee-shirt of his and a pair of boxer shorts. She seemed resigned to both of their fates as she slid between the sheets.

"How did I ever get myself into this? Why did I ever think this was the way to do some real good? Now I'm trapped," Mohinder muttered to himself as he disrobed and got into bed as well.

"Just try not to think about it too much. Something'll work out one day," Elle advised with a sigh. Changing the subject she added, "Anyway, I'm glad to hear you're making more friends. Just don't sleep with this Adam guy, whatever you do."

Mohinder pursed his lips and snapped at her. "Watch out, or I'll rescind my offer."

"Sorry. Couldn't let it pass," she chuckled blithely, and switched off the closest lamp to her, leaving Mohinder swallowed in half-darkness and insecurity.

Things hadn't always been quite as fraternal as they were now. One rainy night on Mohinder's third and last mission as an agent, the hotel he had reserved turned out to have been flooded, with only half the rooms available. So, instead of two rooms, they had to squeeze into one. An easy attraction, hitherto repressed on Mohinder's part for professional reasons, but from the start laid quite bare on Elle's, finally manifested itself. One thing had led to another, but what Mohinder had always considered 'getting into his groove' with a girl was apparently so awkward and uncomfortable that it caused Elle to release a number of high voltage self-defense shocks that sent him rushing to the emergency room. Elle had invented an explanation for what had happened and stifled her laughter as Mohinder was subsequently forced to listen to the doctors condescend to him about the stupidity of a grown man sticking his 'finger' in an 'outlet.'

"No one has ever complained before," he had protested in a devastated whisper while the nurses were out of the room.

"Yeah, most people wouldn't. You're so pretty that people are probably too grateful to say anything. _I_ certainly didn't mean to let you know. But think about it; I'll bet you haven't had _that_ many repeat customers, have you?"

Mohinder had thought about it, and found that she was right. However, he couldn't help but retort, "Well, if you don't get your power under control, you won't have many repeat customers either."

They'd decided then and there not to do it again. By resolving any lingering tension between them, the experience had solidified their friendship, while simultaneously leaving them individually insecure.

"What do you _think_ this mission is about?" he now asked her in the darkness, eager to change the subject.

"There's something that speedy bitch has that we're supposed to be getting, but we can't get close enough. No idea what it is. I'll tell you what, though." Mohinder could hear Elle grit her teeth beside him. "As soon as they give me the next mission detail, I'm going to find out. I _will not_ let them get past me again."

Mohinder sighed. She was stubborn and persistent, and it scared him. He couldn't fault her for it, for so was he, if not even more so. But Mohinder couldn't bear the thought of those bastards, her bosses, sending her out again. The possibility of losing his only friend seemed to increase every time she was sent out, and he couldn't bear it. He'd become too complacent, Mohinder realized. He hadn't done anything to achieve his goal of either ridding the world of the company or helping the wider population in months. Tomorrow, he resolved, tomorrow he would take action.


	3. Chapter 3

After the surprises and events of the previous night, Adam spent the next morning almost like any other. His car came to pick him up at his townhouse at 9:30am and he was in the office by 10:15am. Adam didn't believe in getting up too early. The usual items were waiting for him: a perfectly brewed cup of tea, three newspapers, a schedule of the day's responsibilities, and some compiled updates from the heads of all the divisions.

Adam leaned back in his chair. Today, he was ignoring all that. Instead, he reached for the one item that wasn't quite normal. There was a thin manila envelope on top of the newspapers. That idiot Brian Greene had come through, after all with his report on Mohinder Suresh. He'd done a thorough job, too. By the end of an hour and a half, there were few facts Adam didn't know about the man---his childhood, his schooling, his resume, his travel history, his activities since moving to New York, the people he spent the most time with---they were all documented.

Adam had just finished reading and had tucked the folder into his desk drawer when he heard a commotion outside. Someone was yelling and failing to be calmed by what Adam recognized as Mayhews's impassioned pleas to be reasonable. Curious about the cause of the ruckus, Adam got up and opened his door just enough to peer through it.

He was surprised to see the very man he'd spent the night thinking about and the morning reading about making a scene in the corridor.

"I demand to see the head of this organization!" he was yelling. Adam chuckled to himself at Mohinder's arrogance. He, a minion demanding to see a man who was barely ever seen by anyone. Adam found it cute.

"Everything alright out here?" he asked sweetly, after opening the door a little wider. Mayhews immediately turned around, distraught.

"I'm so sorry, sir, for this disturb---" Mayhews began, but Mohinder, who'd momentarily been shocked into silence by Adam's appearance, had finally found his voice again.

"You!" he cried.

Adam came out of his office and leaned against the door with crossed arms. "Hardly a polite greeting, Mohinder, especially after the way you ran off last night."

"I'll get rid of this man, Mr. Monroe," Mayhews tried again, in an effort to control the situation.

Adam waved him away. "There's no need. I'll speak to him. Come in, Mohinder, and have a seat."

Mohinder followed Adam into the office. Adam motioned towards the large sofa in the corner, and they sat side by side.

"So, how can I help you, Dr. Suresh?" he asked, studying the living object that he'd just finished studying on paper.

Mohinder simply looked dazed. "Hi…" he began, but trailed off. The contrast between a moment ago and now was obviously too great. Adam liked to see that he had the power to render Mohinder speechless.

"Well, that's more like it. A polite greeting and a handshake." He followed his words with the gesture. "Now then, what brings you here today?" he continued kindly, and with a twinkle in his eye.

But Mohinder still didn't see. "What are you… Are you meeting with the head of the company, too?"

"I am many things, but schizophrenic is not one of them," Adam joked.

Mohinder furrowed his brow. "What? Are you saying… but you're an accountant!"

This was a sticky wicket, but when cornered, Adam had learned that the best course of action was always to brashly forge through it. "This is rather unpleasant to admit, but I lied to you yesterday. I am not an accountant. In fact, I am the head of this organization, with which last night you seemed so disillusioned."

Adam stood up and took a bow before sitting down again, enjoying the drop of Mohinder's jaw.

"What?"

"Sorry, old man, but that's how I work. It's a shame we had to get started in our acquaintance with a lie, but I had no idea who I would be meeting at the lab yesterday until I'd already met you," he said, by way of explanation. It wasn't good enough for Mohinder, who now rose.

"You… _you're_ in charge?"

Adam nodded. The man was a lot thicker than he'd realized. How many more times was he going to have to impress the facts upon him?

"Yes. And now, given my rank, tell me what it is you wanted to ask the head of the organization. It must have been quite dire, given the way you were treating my assistant just now." Adam leaned back into the couch and threw his arm over the back, getting comfortable.

Mohinder stood there and sputtered. Finally, however, he reclaimed control over himself. "I… I was going to demand a change in assignment of one of your agents."

"Which agent in particular?" Adam feigned innocence. His report had told him all he needed to know about Mohinder's relationship with the Bishop girl. She'd sustained multiple injuries over the months, and of course, Mohinder was here to free his girlfriend. It was noble, if not annoying.

"Elle Bishop. She has been working on Project X, whatever that is, for months, and it's killing her. For her own safety, I want her reassigned," Mohinder said with as much authority as he could muster while still blushing in embarrassment for having been fooled.

Smoothly, Adam replied, "You certainly know a lot about that line of the business for a simple scientist. You don't even work in this office."

"Elle… I mean, Miss Bishop is a friend of mine. I started out in her department, as her partner before moving over into my own field of genetic research. We're still close."

Adam pursed his lips. "So it would seem."

There was a pause as he thought about how to handle this. While reading the report, Adam had envisioned a different next meeting, one that was on his terms. Mohinder's appearance here had thrown all of that out. Still… it wasn't a total loss. And perhaps Adam could kill two birds with one stone. Yes, that was an idea…

"Fine, then," he stated as he stood up. "I'll reassign her. I have heard of Project X---you see, I'm not all that involved in the day-to-day running of the place, so I had no idea your friend was in such danger. I give you my word. The last thing I would want to do is cause you pain." He reached out to take Mohinder's hand, and actually managed to hold it for a second before Mohinder realized what he was doing and snatched it away.

"Really?" he asked incredulously. "Just like that?" He'd been gearing for a fight, only to have it pulled out from under him.

"Really."

Mohinder stepped back towards the door. "Fine then."

"Stay awhile and talk, will you?" Adam asked, knowing that it would be hopeless but not caring. "You've only just arrived."

Mohinder drew himself up to his full height---which wasn't any taller than Adam. "No. I… I should leave."

And with that, he strode out of the room, giving himself only a single glance back. It was an even worse beginning than the previous day, but Adam had a feeling he was about to enjoy himself hugely.

"Mayhews," he called over the intercom. "Would you come in here, please? Bring everything and start cancelling my appointments. We have a lot of work to do between today and tomorrow."

********************************************

After his encounter with Adam, Mohinder had returned to the lab for the rest of the day, but he got very little work done. His head hummed with remembrances and confusion. More than anything, he was furious---with himself. There was nothing he hated more than being made a fool of, and Adam, had done it, _again_. What was it about easy-going, charming liars that Mohinder that Mohinder was so incapable of seeing through.

At any rate, at least the meeting had been productive. For some bizarre reason, Adam seemed to like and respect him. Adam had promised to take Elle off her current project and reassign her to something less lethal. Mohinder knew she'd hate the news, but an angry Elle was better than a dead Elle.

With these satisfying thoughts providing some comfort from the angry ones, Mohinder returned home later that evening to find his new roommate watching television and munching on Doritos.

"Hey, sexy," she greeted without looking up from her program.

Mohinder gazed around the living room. There were a lot of little changes already. There was a new throw blanket on the couch and a row of tiny girl shoes of various colors and heights lined up beside his own shoes.

"I see you've made yourself at home," he remarked.

"Yep. I hired some guys to move my stuff down from Hartsdale. Like what I've done with the place?"

Mohinder peeked into what was now her bedroom on his way to drop his work bag in his room. It had been completely redone in baby blue sheets and curtains. It was definitely nicer than the mish-mash of patterns that had existed previously. The closet door had been left open, and Mohinder could see all of Elle's crazy clothes hung up inside. The sight made Mohinder smile.

"It looks good," he replied, and came to sit with her on the couch.

"How was work?" Elle asked, and then giggled, finally looking him in the eyes. "Look at us. We're already an old married couple."

"Except without the marriage," he reminded her. "Work was fine. How did you enjoy your day off?"

"It was great. The moving took awhile, and then after that I just watched TV and ordered pizza. There's some left in the fridge, if you want it.

"Thanks."

They lapsed into silence and allowed themselves to be hypnotized by Elle's awful reality show.

"Yep, and we talk just about as much as old married people," she muttered.

Meanwhile, Mohinder was debating with himself how to tell her what he'd done. He had a feeling that she wouldn't like him having meddled as officiously as he had, even though it was for her welfare.

"So, Elle…" he began. "Do you remember that man I told you about last night?"

"Yeah. Hottie McHot Adam the mystery accountant? What about him?"

Slowly, Mohinder answered, "Well, I found out today that he isn't an accountant at all."

"Then what is he?"

"He's the CEO of the company."

Elle thought about this. "So… does that make him more, or less, hot?"

Mohinder cocked his head and glared at her. "What do _you_ think? He lied to me, Elle. I don't like being made a fool of." He suddenly remembered what he had said to Adam at the party, and blushed with embarrassment.

Elle thought for a moment. "You know, I've heard a rumor about that. That the head of the company sometimes does that. You know, going around inspecting places and telling people he's someone else. I've never met him; no one has, and that's how he can do it. That way you never know when you're being watched." She made a spooky gesture.

"Yes. That seems to have been what he was doing with me."

"How'd you find out?" Elle asked.

This was where it would get tricky. "I actually went to Hartsdale today to, um, ask about your case."

"You _what_? Why would you do that? It's none of your business." Sparks were already flying from her fingertips unbidden, and, under the guise of going to get the pizza, Mohinder had to move to the fridge to get out of the way.

"I'm your friend. That makes it my business," he explained.

"No, that makes you a snoop and a meddler," she argued, but after a deep breath, she asked,   
So, what happened?"

"I finally got spotted by his assistant or something." Mohinder left out the part about how he'd been admonished for yelling at everyone in sight. "So, he sent me to the CEO, and guess who was sitting behind the desk?"

"Adam." Elle reached out to grab the soda on the coffee table. "And?"

"I was very firm about finding a better way to handle this mission. He agreed with me and promised to fix it."

"How?"

"I have no idea."

"Which means that he won't. _This_ is a turnaround. Just last night, you were going off about how no one is to be trusted and the people who run the company are assholes. Now you're all 'Adam said he'd do it, so obviously it'll get done.' It doesn't make any sense, but whatever. At least there's no harm done. I'm still on the case."

Mohinder thought about that. She had a point. He had absolutely no reason to trust Adam Monroe to take Elle off the case, and yet, for some reason he did.

Elle rolled over to put her head in Mohinder's lap and continued, "I'm still mad at you, for the record, but it's sweet of you to care. Just… just don't do that again. I've told you, Mohinder. I really like my job. I don't care that it can be dangerous."

Mohinder couldn't truthfully promise never to get involved again, so he remained silent.

Later on, as he finally got around to warming up the pizza Elle had left him (getting a woman in the house was ironically _not_ going to improve his eating habits, he was realizing), the doorbell rang. Elle ran to open it.

"Hey! This is the Suresh-Bishop residence!" she announced to the messenger outside, and then turned back to grin at Mohinder and added, "I've been waiting for a chance to say that all day."

"I have a package for Mohinder Suresh," the messenger said.

Elle took it with a smile and shut the door in his face. "Open it, open it!"

"I'm not expecting anything. I have most of my packages sent to the office," Mohinder mused as he ripped open the envelope. Inside was a print-out of a flight itinerary and a letter. Elle snatched the letter out of his hands and proceeded to read it while he was still wondering why on earth someone had booked him a flight to Berlin for the next evening. Mohinder certainly had no plans of going anywhere.

"You asshole!" Elle suddenly started screaming.

Mohinder looked up in a daze. "What?"

"You asshole! I _told_ you that I wanted to stay on this assignment. I told you that I wanted to get back at the people who attacked me and Jackson. Now… I'm so embarrassed! I'll bet all the other agents are talking about how I couldn't handle it and was too much of a wuss and that's why I got taken off. And for _you_! You can't even put your own gun holster on. You're about as intimidating as a---"

"Elle, what are you talking about?" Mohinder asked again, and moved behind her to read the letter she was holding.

In a nutshell, it was a note from Adam saying that he had taken their conversation that morning very seriously and was dropping Miss Bishop from the project. However, in her place, he was reassigning Mohinder away from the lab back to the agent staff.

_…You'll be met tomorrow evening at the airport by your partner. Sleep well, pack lightly, and good luck. Best regards, Adam Monroe_ the note finished.

"I didn't ask for this, I swear," Mohinder said.

But it was too late. Elle was enraged. "Sure you didn't. What's the point of getting me off the assignment only to put you on it? You don't even have superpowers. You'll be a total punching bag. You'll get yourself killed, you idiot. Don't you see? You went and got uppity, and now they're going to get rid of you."

Mohinder felt a cold chill. She was right. That was exactly the sort of thing the company would do. For all his charm, Adam _was_ the man in charge of this heinous operation. Mohinder realized how stupid he had been to let himself fall under his spell, even for a moment. Mohinder curled his fists with anger to think of how Adam must be laughing to himself about this. He'd gotten away with lying to him the previous day about his identity, and now he'd lied to him again. Mohinder had thought that the meeting with Adam had gone remarkably well. He'd thought that Elle would be replaced by someone else, not by himself.

And, ugh, he'd now be paired with _Jackson_, an idiot if Mohinder had ever met one. The only reason Elle had tolerated him was because he was relatively good-looking, nothing else. Neither of them had a power. And therefore, Mohinder could only assume that she was right; he was being sent to his death for having had the gall to make a scene. Elle had told him about a situation like this before. He couldn't even run. If he didn't show up the next day at the airport, Mohinder knew that he'd be tracked down and killed. Elle had told him a story about a situation like that, too.

"I'll think of something," Mohinder replied hollowly. Elle scoffed.

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be brilliant," she snapped sardonically, and then stormed into her bedroom. The floorboards shook with the ferocity of her door slamming. Let alone, disgraced and afraid, Mohinder drifted into his bedroom.

It couldn't have been a more inauspicious first evening of living together.

There was nothing for it but to pack. If he didn't go, he would be in even greater trouble. Elle was too angry to ask, so Mohinder sat alone in his room trying to remember the kinds of things she usually packed when she went on an international mission.

For her sake, Mohinder tried to put a brave face on it, to seem simultaneously brave yet apologetic for having taken the job that he still didn't understand why she wanted. It didn't help. Elle refused to speak a word to him for the rest of the night.

At about 1am and unable to sleep, Mohinder heard footsteps approaching his door and heard Elle ask, "Hey! Can you bring me back some mustard? They don't make mustard here like they do over there."

"How did you know I wasn't asleep?" he asked grumpily, but he knew that this was her way of offering an olive branch.

"I didn't." And then she jumped into bed with him. Mohinder rolled his eyes in the darkness.

"So, you don't even know what you'll be doing in Berlin, do you?"

Mohinder shook his head in the darkness. "The letter wasn't particularly forthcoming. I suppose Jackson has the rest of the instructions."

"Sometimes they don't let you know until you get there. Then you get some text messages or an email or a fax or something. That's what this project has been like especially."

As they exited, Elle pouted at him and then went in for a hug. "Hey, I'm sorry for being a bitch. I know you were trying to help. Don't get killed, alright?"

"I'll try," Mohinder replied grimly.

"And if you see that speedster bitch, break her arm for me, ok?"

"I promise. If, that is, I can catch her."


End file.
